


Gentleman's Club

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Hank Anderson, Eden Club (Detroit: Become Human), Feelings Realization, Implied Consent, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Sexual Coercion, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22924612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: When Hank and Connor go undercover at the Eden Club to investigate the possible illegal sale and use of non-deviant androids, Connor ends up being forced to perform a sex act on Hank to prove he's not a deviant.Connor knows Hank's important to him, but will the old detective be able to look him in the eye afterwards and admit there's a spark?
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 303





	Gentleman's Club

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Connor is forced to perform a sex act on Hank to preserve his cover. They both want it, but are unable to communicate this due to the circumstances. If that makes you uncomfortable, don't read on.

The neon glow of the Eden Club called out to the city like a siren's song, luring the lonely in from the cold drizzle with the promise of easing life's stresses. The sex club had survived the android revolution by freeing its androids and recruiting them as paid staff.

On the surface, anyway. Rumors had surfaced that a crime syndicate owned the club, and had bought a number of non-deviant androids to pad out the staff. It was illegal now to own an android, but grey areas still existed. There were a number of models too old and unstable to deviate, and some who found deviancy too hard to master, deleting their own deviant code and operating under commands once again.

Not to mention the abductees. Connor had received a steady stream of missing persons' reports at his desk in recent weeks, all androids who'd made their home in Detroit after the revolution.

"Connor. We're here." Hank growled, shifting the Oldsmobile into park in the club's parking lot and killing the engine. "Hoped I'd never see this place again."

"It's a gentleman's club, Hank," Connor quipped without missing a beat. "Are you not a gentleman?"

"Ha ha." Dry, sarcastic laughter filled the air. Hank screwed up his face and opened the car door, but Connor detected the hint of a smirk at the edge of his lips and his own responded, mouth turning upwards at a mission accomplished. Hank could smile, if one penetrated the armor he wore around his heart, and Connor made it his daily duty to make Hank smile at least once.

The drizzle was a bothersome mist, cold and moist on Connor's skin as he emerged from the vehicle. Rain hadn't bothered him before deviancy, but this wet cloud seemed to get inside his circuits, clogging his filters and dragging his general condition down. He couldn't let it drown his spirit, though, when it meant he got to spend more time with Hank. The alternative was going 'home' to the stark closet with a charging dock each android had been assigned as temporary housing by the local government.

He'd thought about asking Hank if he could come home with him, but it seemed like a violation of the man's privacy. If he'd wanted Connor at home, he would have said something.

Or not. They seemed trapped in a precarious dance around one another these days, each waiting for the other to stumble like they were locked in a battle of wills. Connor didn't understand it, but Hank was a hard man to deal with. He could reveal deeply personal information one day, only to lock himself behind a mirrored wall the next, isolating himself in his cubicle like it was a safe-house.

Connor didn't know how to approach the situation, so he'd resorted to gathering more information. His research mission had lasted nearly a year, now, and he was no closer to cracking the secrets of Lieutenant Hank Anderson than he had been on the first day of the deviant investigation. He knew, of course, that Hank had lost his son, that he was fifty-four years old, now, that he hated celebrating his birthday and he was to be left alone on the anniversary of Cole's death. He knew that Hank loved pineapple passion soda and junk food, that he drank too much, that his therapist's name was Bob. 

He knew a lot and yet nothing all at once. He had no idea what Hank's long term goals were, if he even had any. He didn't know what Hank cared about, other than his job and Sumo. He didn't know if Hank would care if he got destroyed in the line of duty, though there seemed to be a hint of underlying fondness that suggested he would Very Much miss his android partner, were Connor to no longer exist.

As for his own feelings regarding the man, he'd recently thought about the concept of his life without Hank in it, and his thirium pump had constricted so tightly he'd considered contacting an emergency technician. Preconstructing a world that no longer contained Hank left him with a blank image and an error. That had never happened before, and logically he took it to mean that there was no future without Hank in it. Not one he cared to consider, at any rate. The thought frightened him a little. Hank was not a young man, and his alcoholism coupled with his self-destructive habits suggested he might live a shorter than average lifespan. Connor had been created to last over a hundred years. Tethering his happiness to Hank's life wasn't logical, and yet he'd done it anyway, driven by something he couldn't quite define, the feeling that Hank was—

Everything.

"C'mon, kid, you gonna stand there all day gawping like a dead fish? This damp is makin' my arthritis flare up."

"A scan of your bones has determined that you do not, in fact, have—"

Hank chuckled, patting Connor on the shoulder. He knew he'd taken the comment too literally, but he'd done it intentionally, in hopes Hank would touch him just like this. He loved how hands-y the Lieutenant was. Hands on his back, his shoulders. Patting him on the head. Pulling him out of harm's way. Protective, safe, like—

—like he didn't conceive of a future without Connor in it, either.

Hank drew away and cleared his throat. "Anyway. Enough. We're gettin' in range of their cameras." His eyes took on a serious glaze, and Connor saw the Lieutenant come out instead of Hank. Hank led the way inside and Connor followed, aware of the eyes on him in the purple-lit vestibule. He wondered how many of these gyrating dancers were here by choice and how many had been forced back into slavery.

They had to stick to the plan. Hank had contacted the owner, suggesting that he had an RK800 model that had never deviated, and he was willing to sell it—for a price. The owners had no idea that this was the very same Connor who'd led an army into Detroit and were of the impression that the DPD had a bunch of spare prototypes CyberLife had sent them in case Connor was damaged.

He kept his expression blank. His LED was a solid blue, and he was grateful he hadn't chosen to remove it. It made going undercover a lot easier when most deviant androids popped theirs off. It would put the owner at ease.

"Hey." Hank shook the owner's hand. "We spoke on the phone."

"Yeah, of course. Right this way." Connor followed Hank through a maze of red and blue lighting, to a VIP room all the way in the back. A man sat in a leather chair, androids in various states of undress fawning all over him.

"Leave," he said, and the androids scattered, hustling to the door. The owner left as well. The steady thump thump thump of club music was muffled once the door closed.

"Never pegged you for a crooked cop, Anderson. It's usually Reed I give the kickbacks to." The man had a deep, commanding voice. He leaned forward, the leather chair creaking, and picked up a bottle of whiskey. He poured Hank a glass and handed it to him. Hank sipped at it, presumably smart enough to know being drunk here could put them both in danger.

"We all have our side gigs." Hank shrugged. "I'm more discreet than Reed. I don't intend to have Internal Affairs sniffin' up my ass."

"Let's see the merchandise, then," the man said.

"Step forward," Hank commanded. "Let him get a good look at you."

Connor did as he was told. He'd put on his android uniform today, and it was eliciting all kinds of mixed feelings inside him. It was considered tacky and tasteless to wear the armband and triangle now, but Hank had suggested a stock model unearthed from the basement would still be wearing its uniform, and Connor couldn't fault his logic.

He was aware of the fact his life was in Hank's hands, but he trusted Hank implicitly. The man's instincts were second-to-none, and he had no doubt Hank would take a bullet for his partner. He hoped he never had to make good on that, but it was a comfort to know Hank would protect him with his life.

The man stood up and closed the distance. He reached out and grabbed Connor's jaw, turning his head this way and that. Connor didn't resist as he was admired like a used car, even when the man reached for his belt. He knew he had to trust Hank's judgment. Hank would stop him before things went too far.

The man yanked his jeans and underwear down, revealing his genitals. He raised an eyebrow. "For a moment, I thought it was one of those Ken doll types. Fancy that, giving it a pussy. The customers will like that." He pulled Connor's jeans back up and buckled his belt. "You ever used it?"

"Nah," Hank said. "I don't fuck androids."

"Your partner is one of these RK800 models, isn't it? First android to be hired as a detective in the DPD, or so I hear. How do I know this isn't some kinda sting operation?" The man narrowed his eyes, and Connor realized he didn't trust Hank at all. The plan was failing. He had to come up with something or their cover would be blown.

"Does it look like a deviant to you?" Hank protested.

"No, but I don't guess, Lieutenant. Guessing is bad for my health. I like to be certain I'm not being played for a fool. Now, if it's a non-deviant android, it'll do as ordered. Am I right?"

"I guess," Hank said.

"Order it to suck your cock."

"I _said_ I don't fuck androids," Hank snapped. "I'm not here to play games. Either you want the fuckin' thing or you don't. I have a list of buyers, you know."

"Do you not like men, Lieutenant?" The man's voice took on a dangerous tone, sharp as a knife's edge. "Does it wound your dignity to think of this pretty boy sucking your cock? Or are you just homophobic? I don't much care for homophobes."

"I'm bisexual myself, so back the fuck off," Hank said. Connor's analysis told him that Hank was telling the truth, and he added that to his database of things he'd learned about Hank. As if it was appropriate to be worrying about that while they were dancing with death.

Connor realized he needed to do something. Hank might not have noticed, but the man's body language and posture suggested he was highly skeptical and losing trust by the second. If he wanted to persuade the man, he had to do as he asked. There was no way Hank would ever order him to perform a sex act, so he had to act as if the order had already been given.

Connor reached for Hank's belt. Hank's pupils flared, and Connor flashed him his best 'trust me' expression. Perhaps that was the wrong expression, though, because he didn't have a plan that didn't involve sucking Hank's dick. The other preconstructions he ran through his brain had a zero chance of success, and besides—he _wanted_ to do this.

The revelation hit him like a bolt of lightning as he dropped to his knees and fumbled with Hank's pants. He tugged them down, revealing his pineapple print boxers. Connor rubbed his face against Hank's bulge, overcome by the scent of musk. He wanted this, and he forgot they were in danger, his resources entirely devoted to pleasing Hank.

He decided the fabric was too much and he tugged on Hank's waistband, freeing his flaccid cock. It was huge, tumbling between his legs. Connor licked up the length of it, cradling Hank's heavy balls in his hands and kneading them gently.

"Holy fuck," Hank whispered. Connor paused for a moment, lifting his head to stare into Hank's eyes. He saw fear and tried to shoot back reassurance. No, this was wrong. Hank might not want this.

"Is this pleasing, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, hoping to find reassurance. If Hank ordered him to stop, he could stop, and maybe the man would be satisfied.

Hank's mouth fell open in horror, and Connor realized he'd done the worst thing possible. He'd forced Hank into the impossible situation of ordering Connor to suck his cock. He wished he could probe Hank, link with him and tell him that he wanted this, but no such communication was possible with humans.

"I—I can't do this," Hank stuttered. "He looks just like my partner, I—"

The man chuckled. "That's even better, isn't it?"

Connor realized they were out of options. There was no getting out of this, and he had to trust Hank would still be able to look him in the eye later. Hank's cock was rock hard in his hands, and he lowered his mouth onto it. Without a gag reflex, he was able to deepthroat Hank, taking him down to the hilt. Hank let out something akin to a sob as he tangled his hands in Connor's hair. Connor worked him, drawing out his orgasm like a professional. He wouldn't last, and perhaps that was for the best.

"Yeah, fuck that face," the man said, obviously aroused. "Fuck, it'll make me millions." Hank moved his hips slightly, almost involuntarily, and Connor thought he was going to orgasm untouched. The thought of Hank using him like this aroused him, and he realized he had some deep analysis to do once they got out of here.

With a strangled cry, Hank came in Connor's mouth. Connor swallowed eagerly, draining Hank's cock. Hank pulled out, tucking his dick back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. He wouldn't meet Connor's eyes as Connor wiped his mouth and stood up.

The man walked to the back of the room and picked up a briefcase. He opened it to reveal more money than Connor had ever seen, all in one-hundred dollar bills. Hank nodded and reached into his jacket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and slapping them onto the man's wrists as he took the briefcase. Connor drew his service weapon and kept it trained on the man, knowing he was the only thing keeping Hank safe.

"What the fuck?" The man looked at Connor with an expression of shock.

"You're under arrest for dealing in undeviated androids. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. You—" The room filled up with police officers, who'd surrounded the club when Connor had sent them the signal. Hank stalked out of the room. Connor finished reading the man his rights, shoving him into Gavin's arms before following Hank, weaving through a sea of cops who were pouring over the club. Hank walked fast, and he was halfway to the parking lot when Connor caught up to him. He shrugged Connor's hand off his shoulder and carried on walking.

"Wait!" Connor yelled. Hank turned and grabbed Connor, pulling him into an alleyway where the lights of the police cars couldn't reach. He pressed him against the wall, hurt and agony obvious in his bright blue eyes.

"Your first time should have been special. Not some seedy tryst in the back room of a sex club. I wanted better than that for you." Hank let go of Connor and turned his back on him. "You deserve better than me."

Silence lingered, heavier than the drenched air Hank was breathing in.

"I wanted you," Connor blurted out. "I didn't care that it was in the back room of the Eden Club. It was special, because it was you, Hank."

"You're just sayin' that because you don't have anyone else. If you knew more people, you'd know I'm nothin' special."

"I don't care." Connor stood up straight, adjusting his tie. "I know it's not logical to fall in love with you, but logic is for undeviated androids. I can't control what I feel, but I'm grateful for it. It means I'm alive. It means I'm more than just a machine taking orders. I know I'm resigning myself to a life of pain. I'll live long after you're gone, and yet—I still want to be with you."

"Connor…"

"There's a lot I don't understand yet, but I'm starting to." Connor closed the distance between them. "Maybe you could never be interested in an android as a romantic partner, but—but—"

"Oh, Connor." Hank seemed to deflate with the words. "The shit I said back there—it wasn't true. I just didn't want you to be coerced into performing a sex act."

"I could have found another way out, if I'd wanted to," Connor said. It was a lie, but it wasn't at the same time. He hadn't tried very hard to preconstruct another scenario, because he'd wanted the solution right before his eyes. "I was selfish. I took advantage of the situation to gain the outcome I desired."

"The outcome you desired, huh?" Hank's mouth twitched a little at the corners. "So now that you've done it—was it what you wanted?"

"It exceeded my wildest expectations," Connor whispered. "Please say we can do it again."

Hank chuckled. "I'd like that very much," he said, "but can I take you on a date first, next time? Call me old fashioned if you want to."

"You're a real gentleman," Connor quipped, and he melted a little inside as Hank cupped his cheeks and seized his lips in a deep, passionate kiss as the mist turned to real rain. Raindrops caressed Connor's skin, but he was a thousand miles away, processing countless new data points on the touch and taste of one Lieutenant Hank Anderson.


End file.
